


a piece of you

by notsugarandspice



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: All The Bad Ideas, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, High School, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Reddie, Sexual Content, because, but they're in it together so whatever, love is scary, sex is scary, they don't know better, they're mad dumb ok, this is very Eddie centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 20:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21082679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsugarandspice/pseuds/notsugarandspice
Summary: Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.





	a piece of you

**Author's Note:**

> they're underage in the first couple of chapters, so if you have something against healthy teenage urges, please refrain from reading this and commenting nasty things, thank you
> 
> on another note, the tags n shit are gonna be updated as I post new chapters so keep that in mind
> 
> enjoy! <3

Friends with benefits? Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Eddie knew it from the start. It was never going to end well. Who was he kidding? You don’t just go around fucking someone you grew up with and suddenly stop and go back to the way things were. That doesn’t happen. Or maybe it does when feelings aren’t involved, but that just wasn’t the case.

It started Sophomore year. It wasn’t anything serious, really. It took Richie a whole another year to muster up the courage to touch Eddie below the waist. But Eddie knew he was fucked the moment he had the first urge. An urge that seemed very stupid and pointless because it’s not like he wanted to _date _Richie, _god _no. He just _wanted_.

At first, he didn’t even really know what he wanted in the first place. The only class he shared with Richie was AP English Lit. Eddie wasn’t the smartest guy in school, but Richie was so they barely saw each other during the day. Richie sat in the back, avoiding teachers' questions. See, he only spoke when he wanted to, and when he did, there was absolutely no way of stopping him. It was annoying and endearing and intellectual and in Eddie’s personal opinion (that developed as the year went by), extremely hot. He sat by the window diagonally from Richie, and they exchanged notes a _lot. _The teacher never noticed or pretended he didn’t care because they were both at the top of the class and were probably the most contributing students of everyone there.

One day, Richie’s note sounded a bit suggestive. Well, not a bit. It was _very _suggestive. Eddie didn’t realize it until later, of course, because up to that point, he had pretty much zero experience when it came to anything resembling romance. The note was _very_ simple

_movies? ;P_

Eddie didn’t even second guess it at first. They always went to the movies with the other Losers. It was a weekly tradition. So, not a big deal.

_you tell the others yet? what movie?_

He extended his arm back without looking and kept it there for five long seconds before he realized Richie was rummaging in his backpack. Eddie rolled his eyes and tossed the note straight into the others' temple. Richie turned around so fast that his glasses skidded down his nose, almost falling, and he had to toss his head back to prevent that from happening. Eddie snorted into his hand and turned back towards the desk. The response landed under his chair.

_wanna see it at my place? just us two?_

_Oh. Ohhhhhhh. _Eddie’s stomach lurched high up in his throat. A feeling he wasn’t very accustomed to. It was weird and made him really uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell _what _it was, though. Eddie was suddenly really nervous: his palms started to sweat, and the room felt like it was pressing into him. But there was also a weird tug somewhere deep in him that didn’t feel too bad. So he focused on that.

_ok. you better pick a horror movie_

Mistake. An obvious mistake, as Eddie came to realize much later in the day when Richie’s head was in his lap. Eddie couldn’t breathe. He completely forgot about the movie. He forgot where he was entirely. His whole body was on fire. Exploding. Richie turned to look at the screen again and quickly changed his mind, burrowing his face in Eddie’s stomach. His hands were all around Eddie, one clutching the sweater on his lower back and the other digging into his hip, the rest of the fingers wrapped much lower than Eddie would’ve wanted.

Eddie was frozen. He didn’t dare move because, one, he was pretty sure he was already getting a semi from a slight waft of Richie’s hot breath into the holes of his sweater, and two, he kind of didn’t want Richie to stop doing whatever he was doing because, for some inexplicable reason, it felt fucking fantastic. Eddie felt so small in Richie’s arms, even though he was not the one shaking from fear.

Eddie cleared his throat and looked down at Richie’s mess of a head in his lap. There was something so extremely intimate in the way they were positioned. It made Eddie warm and hot and fucking electric all at the same time. He realized that nights like these have to happen much more often. They _have _to. He wouldn’t survive without them.

He looked up at the screen and saw that the scary moment has passed. Eddie tangled his fingers into Richie’s hair without thinking and bent down a bit to tell him that the coast was clear.

“Rich. It’s over.” His voice was a bit above a whisper.

Richie’s head jerked up, but he didn’t move away much at first. He stared up at Eddie for three agonizing seconds that gave Eddie’s body some kind of a hot flash, and then…kissed (kissed!) his stomach and quickly sat back on the couch.

“Thanks, Spaghetti. You make all the nightmares go away.”

That was it. Eddie was like a fucking addict now. He was too goddamn proud to ask Richie for another night, but he felt the need for it somewhere deep in his chest (or his pants), and he couldn’t. Let. It. Go.

They were at the library one day per Ben’s request. He needed help with the paper he was writing on “Animal Farm.” And since Richie and Eddie were in the same AP class, and paid much more attention (because Ben was slightly, or _really, _daydreamy), he asked them for help. Of course, it was a fruitless endeavor because all Richie and Eddie ever did was argue, and that day was no exception. Ben ended up retreating to ask the librarian if she knew anything about the book. Eddie was already riled up so he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth at that point.

“Are we ever gonna do that thing again?” He suddenly realized that his face was burning. What the fuck?

Richie bumped his knee against him and grinned so wide, Eddie wanted to slap it off him. “Eduardo, whatever _thing _you’re talking about hasn’t happened. Yet. But if you’re _oh so _desperate to hop on this train, all you gotta do is a-“

Eddie smacked him on the side of the face, and Richie started laughing so hard, the woman on the other side of the table had to shush them loudly. Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

“I meant the movie thing, dickwad.”

Richie’s eyes quickly dropped to Eddie’s mouth. It was a millisecond, but it made Eddie’s legs bounce nonetheless.

“Only if it’s horror.” Richie winked.

“Rich, you hate horror. You have nightmares for a week after.”

“I didn’t last time.”

That weird tugging sensation was back. It stirred Eddie in all the wrong directions, it seems. “Fine. But you gotta have snacks this time.”

“Who needs snacks when I have you, Eds.”

Another smack to the head that resulted in a small tackling session, and they got kicked out.

Back at it again with the couch and Richie being touchy and Eddie fucking fuming with something unnameable. Annoying. They’re watching “Evil Dead” and it’s not even _scary, _but Richie already took off his glasses because he was tired of sticking his fingers under the frame, and Eddie is itching for him to just fucking…lie down on him or something. He doesn’t even know why. He just _needs _it.

And he gets what he wants, but it’s not a very good thing in the long run. “Eds, can you spoon me?”

_Okay. _Eddie’s heart starts hammering so fast it almost feels like it stopped beating. “Dumbass, how is that gonna work? I’m half your size.”

“Yeah, but you’re softer, and I’m real thin, so you don’t gotta hug much.” Richie demonstrates by hugging himself and linking the fingers behind his back. “See?”

“That’s just because you have noodle arms.” Eddie turns the attention back to the screen, silently wondering why he’s fighting the thing that he wanted the entire fucking night. He suddenly wants to be as far away from Richie as possible.

“Pleeeeeeease.” Richie gets close to his face as he gets up on all fours on the couch, and all Eddie can do to get their faces further from each other is comply.

So that’s how they ended up here. Eddie’s arm draped over Richie’s waist, his top leg on top of Richie’s bottom leg. It’s oddly comfortable and kind of amazing. And also stirs up a lot of shit Eddie doesn’t really want to think about. He desperately tries to redirect his attention to the movie. Eddie’s head is propped up on his palm, and he tries not to look down at the mop of curls currently shaking from laughing at how one of the girls is screaming. Eddie’s eyes are on the screen, but he’s retaining zero information as his head is swimming with the opportunities of their current position.

Eddie’s pretty sure he already has a semi, but he’s not too pressed against Richie, and either way, it doesn’t and _shouldn’t _matter. It will pass.

There’s a jump scare moment, and Richie turns around completely, his face somewhere between Eddie’s shoulder and chin. He makes some whiny noises, and Eddie is _pissed _because he really doesn’t know what’s happening with him, but he likes this change of situation. Like, a _lot._

“You’re such a fucking drama queen.”

Richie pinches his side, and Eddie giggles. Somehow in the midst of all that, Richie’s knee sneaks between Eddie’s legs, pressing against the back of the couch. “Insensitive!”

“_You _wanted to watch this.” There’s a post-laugh smile on Eddie’s face, and Richie suddenly looks up and mirrors it. Eddie feels nauseous.

“You smell nice.”

_Oh. Oh god. _“What does that mean?”

“It means what it means. You smell good.” Richie emphasizes the point by ducking back down and pressing his nose against Eddie’s pulse point. Eddie wants to fall through the floor into the basement.

He chokes on his words. “Cut it off.”

Richie retreats, but he feels closer than last time. Eddie can smell Fanta on his breath. He fucking feels it in his pants. “Cut what off?”

“Smelling me. And, you know…other stuff and shit.”

Richie’s eyes drop to his mouth. Eddie’s going to have a heart attack. “Why?”

Eddie can hear a challenge in the question. As if Richie can smell, he doesn’t mean it. That what he _actually _means is something they really shouldn’t explore under any circumstances.

“Because…” Eddie is breathing so hard now, his whole body rigid, and he thinks he involuntarily inched closer to Richie, but he’s not sure about anything at this point. Richie’s lips are pretty pink.

“Because..?” Richie has a small smile. Kind of a smirk. Eddie has never seen him smile like that before. It feels private and makes Eddie’s hair stand on ends. It makes him hot all over. Everywhere. _Everywhere._

“Richie…” His name is barely a breath. Richie moves his face closer and brushes their noses together. His hand is suddenly on Eddie’s hip, and the knee presses higher, and Eddie can’t fucking breathe. He thinks his faux asthma might come back, and he doesn’t know if he wants that as an out or if he abhors the idea of stopping whatever is about to happen.

Richie’s nose travels to Eddie’s jawline and dips lower, back to his throat. Now it’s Richie’s lips that touch Eddie’s pulse point, so agonizingly gentle and slow. He does it again. And again. Switching angles, going a bit below the chin, a bit closer to the collar of Eddie’s polo, closer to the ear. _Everywhere. _Richie ends up half on top of him, the back of Eddie’s head on the couch. They’re fucking lost in it.

“You smell like lavender.” Richie’s voice sounds a bit hoarse, suddenly not high pitched and annoying the way he typically sounds. It’s more masculine, and it feels _private _like only Eddie is allowed to hear him like this.

“Ma’s detergent.” Eddie is just whispering at this point. He has zero control over his body, and the air is fucking prickling with something, making it hard to breathe and think and _anything._

Richie chuckles, tickling the other’s neck. “I know, your mom’s panties smell just like this.”

“Shut the fuck up, god.” Eddie groans and then giggles. Their eyes connect. Eddie’s ears are ringing, it’s so heavy between them, whatever it is.

“Can I take it off?”

“What?”

Richie’s hand slips under the polo at the bottom, exposing most of Eddie’s stomach. Eddie feels his hips jerk upwards, and Richie _definitely _doesn’t miss it because he grins like a fucking Cheshire. “This.”

_Shit. _Eddie suddenly understands what this can actually lead to. And as much as his body obviously wants to, what with how rock hard he is where Richie’s elbow is hovering above his zipper, and how quickly his heart is beating, he’s not in any way shape or form ready to cross that line. Not now. Maybe not ever. Not with Richie.

_Richie._ The name suddenly sounds different in his mind. It’s like a caress, only in his thoughts. It tugs on his heart, and the skin underneath Richie’s palm is searing hot. Eddie feels how hard Richie is, too, because of _him. For _him. It’s terrifying and exciting and _cannot _happen. Eddie pushes his arm out of his polo and leaps off the couch, shaking his head a bit. It doesn’t help; the distance just makes him want to go back even further. Do everything he wants to do but _can’t. _He has to leave. He has to leave _now._

“I gotta go.”

He turns around and walks back to the front door with determination, embarrassment, and significant discomfort between his legs. Of course, Richie follows right after him. He stands in the dark hallway before Eddie, who’s feverishly sticking his feet into the sneakers.

“Eddie, I’m sorry-“

“We’re cool. Don’t worry. See you tomorrow.” Eddie runs out the door and raises his palm in goodbye without even looking. He needs to get into the shower now. And possibly perform an exorcism on himself. Or move to a different country.

_Jesus._


End file.
